Latent happiness

"So, instead of actively trying to make places, or people, happier, perhaps we'd be better off heeding the advice of Canadian author Robertson Davies: 'If you are not happy you had better stop worrying about it and see what treasures you can pluck from your own brand of unhappiness.'"

- Eric Weiner, in The Geography of Bliss

Like the Mars bar. Dark and convoluted on the outside, but latently happy on the inside.

A different side of Jakarta

I am writing from the luxurious comfort of Jakarta Le Meridien's lobby. Outside, guards in uniform stand by the electronic scanner, greeting every guest who walks in with a generous smile.

By experience, I know every vehicle which comes in will suffer the same fate too. Policemen with their metal detectors will stop each and every one of them, asking to see every guest's face by insisting the driver to lower down all windows.

Inside, men in suits walk around with one hand in their pockets - looking at the same time important but carefree. As if they own the world. The clacking sounds of high heels distract me, a celebrity-looking woman walks past with her head held high, with men trailing behind her like ducklings following their hen mother.

I came to Jakarta with expectations, and none of them has been met so far.

Why is it, when we want to do something good, it has to be confined within the boundaries of existing systems or institutions?

For three days, eating inappropriately overpriced food, sitting around in an unnaturally regulated room temperature, we speak of how we want to try to save the world and change humanity. Granted, millions have been spent for lower income groups who is supposed to be our beneficiaries, plans for policies are underway to ensure more sustainable and equitable world.

But are we doing the right thing? Who are we actually benefiting? Who do we eventually leave feeling good, our beneficiaries or ourselves?


I know I'm supposed to be inspired, but at the end of it all, I think I'm left feeling more disenchanted than ever.

And Jakarta feels like a date gone wrong. I'll have to come back, next time.

Indeterminate changes

A lot of things did not happened - my spelunking trip to Gua Tempurung was postponed to next month. I missed the Big Bad Wolf Book Sale which ran for fourteen days next door to my office. I put off visiting an ex-colleague and her newborn son for indeterminate days. After an enthusiastic beginning, my blog was left untended for nearly a month.

But a lot of things happened too - I went on day trip to Kota Tinggi to visit an uncle. Although I was never really quite one who is attached to family, visiting my elderly relatives brought a certain weight to my reality.

No man is an island, and life is always a legacy passed from one to another.

I had numerous sessions of much needed talk with my friends over the week, planned and unplanned. It's heartening to learn despite our sporadic encounters these days, our bonds continues to reinforce. Especially looking at my friend's kids, their hands holding on to us like they have known us all along, made me realise how there are always larger things at work in life. 

The wonders of life, the wonders in living - how we are all connected to one another, by blood, by experience, by memories.

In the meantime, work has taken hold of my life almost entirely.  But I am enjoying it. I meet new people every day, and they in turn enrich my experience, professionally and personally.

From time to time I keep thinking, even though at the beginning I wasn't certain what I'm supposed to do - I'm beginning to see what I'm doing now is what I'm meant to do, all along.

Looking forward looking backward

The pain never really goes away. They are less defined now, but when they come they grip her strong like a drowning body.

Like yesterday, when she was doing the dishes, she was struck by lightning memories of him; him standing in the kitchen, him speaking on the phone while she was putting away the groceries she just bought, him teasing her about the craziness of her work.

They are only sliver of memories, but their sudden outburst in her mind - like fireworks, when she is already on the verge of forgetting him, the verge of moving on from the endless thought of him during the day and the sight of him in her dreams at night - made her kneel down on the floor, right there in the kitchen, to catch her breath and her sudden dizziness.

She wish she could end it all by ending herself.

How much stuffs do you need?

"The golden rule...is resolutely to refuse to have what the millions cannot." - Mahatma Gandhi

Probably the image (and the philosophy) which has made a lasting impression on me was when I watched Gandhi, the 1982 film famously brought alive by Ben Kingsley. My friend, who had been in India several months before, showed me the house where Gandhi lived, and told me how in his death, Gandhi only had steel rimmed glasses, a pair of sandals, a Zenith pocket watch, an eating bowl and a plate as his worldly possessions.

Could one live like Gandhi? It may be extreme. But his philosophy remains, we should not own more than what we need.

Last night I decided to take an inventory of the stuffs I own (excluding household furniture, kitchen utensils and appliances, personal care products, and books):

1. 5 pairs of work pants (1 pair from 2006, 1 pair from 2008, 3 pairs from 2010), 
2. 2 pairs of jeans (both from 2007), 
3. 10 work/casual tops (All from 2010), 
4. 5 pairs of baju kurung (3 pairs from 2010, 2 pairs from 2011), 
5. 3 pairs of running/hiking pants (2 pairs from 2008, 1 pair from  2011), 
6. 3 pairs of pyjama pants (2 pairs from 2009, 1 pair hand-me-down), 
7. 2 pairs of skirts (both from 2009)
8. 10 t-shirts (3 from 2011, 2 from 2010, the rest from 2009 or before), 
9. 2 cardigans
10. 20 scarves (2 from 2011, 10 from 2010, 6 from 2008 or before, 2 gifts)
11. 3 pairs of socks (2011), 
12. 1 pair of running shoes (2011), 
13. 2 pair of work shoes (2011), 
14. 1 pair of flip flops (hand-me-down), 
15. 1 handbag (hand-me-down), 
16. 2 backpacks (1 hand-me-down, 1 from 2011), 
17. 1 suitcase (hand-me-down),
18. 1 laptop (a gift)
19. 1 iPod (a gift)
20. 1 DVD reader (a gift) 
21. 1 handphone (from 2008)
22. 1 speaker (hand-me-down)
23. 1 headphone (gift)
24. 1 wallet (gift)
25. 1 belt (from 2010)
26. 1 blazer (from 2007, rarely used)
27. 1 winter jacket (from 2009, only used overseas)
28. 1 cap (from 2009, used for running)
29. 2 watches (gifts)
30. 2 bracelet (gifts)
31. 2 cloth bangles (from 2010)
32. 1 pair of glasses (from 2007) 
33. 1 box of pins and brooches
34. 5 ethnic purses/bags (4 souvenirs from friends/colleagues, 1 from 2009)
35. 2 canvas tote (gifts)
36. 3 jewellery boxes (gifts)
37. 1 2 men-tent (from 2010)
38. 1 sleeping bag (from 2007)
39. 1 rechargeable camping lantern (from 2009)
40. 1 P1 4G Wiggy (from 2011)
41. 1 classical guitar (from 2009)
42. 1 guitar stand (from 2009)
43. 1 guitar tuner (from 2009)
44. 1 aboriginal art (from 2009)
45. 2 pieces of thimble (from 2009)
46. 3 pieces of Etsy artworks (from 2009)
47. 1 prayer mat (hand-me-down)
48. 1 pair of prayer shawl (gift)
49. 1 scientific calculator (hand-me-down)
50. 1 tumbler (from 2011)

I know I probably own less stuff than most peers (or women) my own age, but I also know there are still a lot of stuffs I could do without, stuffs that I bought at a moment's notice which I don't need at all (like the frilly top I bought in Malacca or the lacy top I bought online - they only look good on me indoor). I am also grateful to receive most of my more expensive possessions (laptop, iPod, watches, handbag, wallet) as gifts, but sometimes I can't help but talked myself into buying fancy things like IKEA white photo frames where I put pictures of my friends, or artworks on books or coffee from Etsy.

Trying to make a living, and trying to make a "life" are two different things. Living, shopping, owning stuffs, are all different and separate things, and  it's a philosophy I'm continuously trying to learn and embrace as I grow older.

How much stuffs do you own? Are they all needs and wants? How do you distinguish them?

Little pockets of life

Last night, a friend asked, 'so what do you usually do after work?''.

We were winding down in the car after an alumni meeting and dinner (my first, his 5th). After a crash ice-breaking session with a lot of people I've never met before, and few rounds of game, I found the quiet atmosphere in the car welcoming (relieving even). 

'So what do you usually do after work?' His voice stirred the stupor around me. 'Where do you hang out?' I straightened up, braced myself to give the inevitable answer - needless to say, it's not my favourite question.

"Go home, cook dinner, laze about reading books or get online..." I let my sentence teeter, silence hung between us like curtain.

"So, basically you don't hang around much." He spoke the words with a hint of finality to them, as if concluding the entire conversation. I smiled.

Acceptance is a small, quiet room

I've become a frequent (and loyal) reader of Dear Sugar, and I fell in love right off the bat with the letter she wrote for her 20-something year old self I'm sharing it with you, you and you:

Dear Seeking Wisdom,

Stop worrying about whether you’re fat. You’re not fat. Or rather, you’re sometimes a little bit fat, but who gives a shit? There is nothing more boring and fruitless than a woman lamenting the fact that her stomach is round. Feed yourself. Literally. The sort of people worthy of your love will love you more for this, sweet pea.

In the middle of the night in the middle of your twenties when your best woman friend crawls naked into your bed, straddles you, and says, You should run away from me before I devour you, believe her.

You are not a terrible person for wanting to break up with someone you love. You don’t need a reason to leave. Wanting to leave is enough. Leaving doesn’t mean you’re incapable of real love or that you’ll never love anyone else again. It doesn’t mean you’re morally bankrupt or psychologically demented or a nymphomaniac. It means you wish to change the terms of one particular relationship. That’s all. Be brave enough to break your own heart.

When that really sweet but fucked up gay couple invites you over to their cool apartment to do ecstasy with them, say no.

There are some things you can’t understand yet. Your life will be a great and continuous unfolding. It’s good you’ve worked hard to resolve childhood issues while in your twenties, but understand that what you resolve will need to be resolved again. And again. You will come to know things that can only be known with the wisdom of age and the grace of years. Most of those things will have to do with forgiveness.

One evening you will be rolling around on the wooden floor of your apartment with a man who will tell you he doesn’t have a condom. You will smile in this spunky way that you think is hot and tell him to fuck you anyway. This will be a mistake for which you alone will pay.

Don’t lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don’t have a career. You have a life. Do the work. Keep the faith. Be true blue. You are a writer because you write. Keep writing and quit your bitching. Your book has a birthday. You don’t know what it is yet.

You cannot convince people to love you. This is an absolute rule. No one will ever give you love because you want him or her to give it. Real love moves freely in both directions. Don’t waste your time on anything else.

Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.

One hot afternoon during the era in which you’ve gotten yourself ridiculously tangled up with heroin you will be riding the bus and thinking what a worthless piece of crap you are when a little girl will get on the bus holding the strings of two purple balloons. She’ll offer you one of the balloons, but you won’t take it because you believe you no longer have a right to such tiny beautiful things. You’re wrong. You do.

Your assumptions about the lives of others are in direct relation to your naïve pomposity. Many people you believe to be rich are not rich. Many people you think have it easy worked hard for what they got. Many people who seem to be gliding right along have suffered and are suffering. Many people who appear to you to be old and stupidly saddled down with kids and cars and houses were once every bit as hip and pompous as you.

When you meet a man in the doorway of a Mexican restaurant who later kisses you while explaining that this kiss doesn’t “mean anything” because, much as he likes you, he is not interested in having a relationship with you or anyone right now, just laugh and kiss him back. Your daughter will have his sense of humor. Your son will have his eyes.

The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.

One Christmas at the very beginning of your twenties when your mother gives you a warm coat that she saved for months to buy, don’t look at her skeptically after she tells you she thought the coat was perfect for you. Don’t hold it up and say it’s longer than you like your coats to be and too puffy and possibly even too warm. Your mother will be dead by spring. That coat will be the last gift she gave you. You will regret the small thing you didn’t say for the rest of your life.

Say thank you.

Yours,
Sugar

Unexpected moments

August #Reverb11 prompt asked, describe an unexpected moment, activity, sighting or conversation that touched you during July.

I thought how appropriate the question is, since July had presented me with so many unexpected moments that in the course of one month I've learned about myself and other people more than I had in one year.

Firstly, a friend of mine told me he is getting married, and he told me in such gentleness I broke down and let myself weep like I never had in a long time. He has been one source of constants in my life since I came home, and his ever-present words give me an anchor for a life I'm trying to build (and believe in).

For a moment, I felt like a sinking ship, a ship lost in raging seas, a blind navigator. 

How easy it is to take your old wounds for granted, to think you have the world as your oyster, to think happiness as something definite when pain, sorrow, and lost are just as essential parts of life.

"Whatever relationships you have attracted in your life at this moment, are precisely the ones you need in your life at this moment. There is a hidden meaning behind all events, and this hidden meaning is serving your own evolution." - Deepak Chopra

Secondly, prior to my friend's revelation, for the first time in a long time, I attempted to speak to god again. The act was done in rage, in resignation, in confusion - I just looked up at the sky and demanded god to listen to me, to tell me what it is I'm supposed to do, to show me a sign.

And he did. And despite my dysfunctional relationship with him, I think the sentence, "I've never believed in God, but I do believe in his love." echoes my sentiment about god for now.

Thirdly, I had to let go of one relationship which depletes me of my energy and emotions. Again, on the contrary to previous cases, the situation amazes me at how easy (or for the use of a better word, accepting) I was in making the decision.

I've had a glorious share of the relationship and I want to preserve it as it was. I believe the relationship has served its purpose and I'm allowing it to do the same to other people.

Although parting of hearts is always hard, and telling a cold hard truth may not always be comfortable, I hope in making the decision, I did it out of love - for myself, and for them.

"People don't leave because things are hard. They leave because it's no longer worth it."

I'm laying my burden down. I'm owning my own choices. I'm in charge of my own life. 

Learning to live with myself

“I need to be alone. I need to ponder my shame and my despair in seclusion; I need the sunshine and the paving stones of the streets without companions, without conversation, face to face with myself, with only the music of my heart for company.”
— Henry Miller

Living my word (accept) is proving to be wearisome. The more I open myself to it, the more I discover there are a lot of things about my life which needs resolving.

In the spirit of fasting month, I am abstaining myself from the pleasure of society. I am going to use every spare time I have finishing my books (Carduroy Mansions, Juliet Naked, Geography of Bliss, The Case for God, The Life of Gandhi, among others), running, and writing.

The rest of the time, until 'eid comes, will be spent pondering life and tending my little garden. It's time I learn to accept my own aloneness.

When we are no longer ourselves

"The first is the recognition that the great mystery is not death but birth, not that someone loved is now gone but that the person was here at all. The great gift is life and loving and being loved in return. In this way love is stronger than death."
- Arthur Dobrin in "Grief Feels Like You're Going Crazy"

Just not tonight, but someday

What happens when you let go?

She was walking past the throngs of people in the cafeteria when she saw him, face bright with laughter and smile and indifference.

She had stopped by to get dinner after a satisfying run. It had been a busy week. She hadn't been home earlier than 9 o'clock in the evening in the past 5 days, and she had just got home after a day trip down south for a consultation session with one of her project stakeholders. She was looking forward for a quiet evening with no disruption to her daily routine life.

She was upset with him, and was intent to avoid him at all cost. Throughout the week she has been berating herself for bringing such disappointment unto her own life when she knows fully well her own folly and misgivings.

She hates to make mistakes, but she keeps repeating them.

"You're just as hard on yourself as you are on others." She had heard the line in a movie somewhere, and she felt for the subject of such comment, because she understood what it feels like to have such urge for perfection hovering over her since forever.

She was walking past the throngs of people in the cafeteria when she saw him, face bright with laughter and smile and indifference, and her world stood stock-still.

Where are the young?

Here's a situation:

Rural communities in Cambodia rely on charcoal production as one of their sources for income. The process technology is inefficient, the only wood they get from is through illegal logging, and due to the inefficient production process, the profit margin is small - even though charcoal production contributes to more than 50% of the community's income.  

Then comes GERES (Groupe Energies Renouvelables, Environnement et Solidarités) - who introduced and built the Yoshimura kiln for the Cambodian rural households, managed to increase the production efficiency to 30% (less wood is used to produce the same amount of charcoal) and to improve and further standardize the charcoal products to be sold at premium (and higher) price.

Additionally, Yoshimura kiln generates wood vinegar as by-products of the charcoal production process, which can be sold at the supermarket for cooking and agriculture purposes.

From an individually manipulative and environmentally degrading process, the project turn around what is a major economic activity of the Cambodian rural community into a social enterprise project. 

I learned about the project from a training organised by the Italian Trade Commission, the presenter was a young man, perhaps no more 5 years older than myself. His presentation was enthusiastically received, and as I was sitting there, listening to his interactive debate with the audience, I looked around and  saw among other, palm oil veterans and university professors, I thought to myself; where are the young?

Where are our young?

Harvesting basil

I am turning my fingers green. Bought a small basil plant last week and every day now when I wake up I leap out of bed to see if the plant is still alive.

Been experimenting with watering and mulching the soil, and thanks to the much-needed guidance from Google, the plant is still alive and sprouting new buds. Yesterday with much excitement I harvested some of the leaves to  make baked pasta with mozarella.

The recipe to serve 2;

Preheat oven. Chop half of a white onion with two garlic and a chilli, sautee in olive oil. Put in some salt and pepper to taste, and pour in a can of plum tomato (chopped finely, crushed or blended). Tear in the basil leaves and let the sauce simmer. Cook pasta accordingly and toss with the sauce when done. Layer the pasta with Parmesan and mozzarella cheese and pop into the oven to cook until the cheese is golden and yummy. 

A quick and simple recipe, and a good attempt for those who are trying to go vegetarian in their meals because the mozzarella cheese definitely provides the wholesome and proteinaceous quality of meat.

For varieties, the baked pasta can be decoratively (and nutritiously) added with zucchini or eggplant, roasted on stove with olive oil with a dash of salt and pepper.

Learning to live without

Umair Haque says 'the "best" investment you can make isn't gold. It's the people you love, the dreams you have, and living a life that matters'.

Does it sounds simple and a tad too idealistic? Perhaps, but the truth is too often glaring and obvious we overlook them for something more - bigger, better, and bolder.

Sometimes in the office I was thrown with questions like, 'would you like to buy a discounted Coach or LV handbags?', or 'did you see the Maurice Lacroix watch we passed by the other day? Do you remember how much did it cost?', and they exhaust me. Sometimes people will ask, 'wouldn't you like to apply for the Government jobs? Or with any other big firms? They would pay you better, they offer more benefits, they are more stable', and I get tongue-tied.

How do I explain to people, and to help them understand; I neither care nor wish for these things?

It is true, money has afforded me the liberty and independence to take control of my own life, and given my growing interest in personal finance - I would be lying to say I do not care about money. However, getting (dollar) rich, collecting expensive designer (junk), or living a luxurious life (at the expense of other people's survival) are not my life's goals.

'Craft your own recipes of eudaimonic wealth -  riches that are made up of the stuff you probably can't buy, but have to earn: the stuff that people usually don't (and probably won't) sell, but can choose to freely bestow upon you, give to you, and keep in trust for you.'

It is up to you to give [life] a meaning

"I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become" - Carl Jung

How many times a day do I find myself being angry at the world? How many times a day I was revisited by the ancient urge to hurl a red brick stone at somebody, for deceiving me, for disrespecting me, for rejecting me? How many times a day I am tempted to listen to the deepest and darkest voice in my head, which lurks around, ready to spring at a moment's notice - to take the forbidden path, to let go, without a care to the world, without remembering those I love the most?

They are too many to count, and the thing about growing up, the thing about having chosen my own path - is that my life becomes my own responsibility. The fear, the hurt, the anger, the frustration, the sadness; are no one else's but mine.

So every time, when I'm confronted with the same situation over and over again, I have to consider my choices - to revert back to my old self, and risk facing the same result, the same pattern, or to move forward, to see the beauty in everyday life and even though I am at the mercy of the unknown, of the unfamiliar - at least I'm not repeating, or victimised by, the same vicious cycle.

I am not giving up on you, life, not yet.

The trouble with being small

I always get tongue-tied when people ask about what I do at work. What comes out of my mouth are usually a mumbo-jumbo of words which so often leave people even more perplexed. The conversation usually goes like this;

"So where are you working? Putrajaya. Which Ministry/Department? Oh, no. I work in the private sector. (Surprised look) Really, which company are you working with? It's a small company, we do management consulting and seminar/conference planning. (Feigned interest) Ah, so what kind of work/projects are you doing right now? Oh, um, I'm involved in this non-profit government-to-government initiative to promote the biomass industry. But you said you're not working with government. You're correct, I'm not, but we're engaged by the government to do this project. (Vigorous nodding followed by awkward silence)"

When I was in the university, I never thought of myself working with a small/medium-sized business. Partly because I think I'd always end up doing research and studying all my life, and eventually when I got the scholarship from the government - I thought my path is set in the public sector.

But I should've known, growing up and watching my father managed one of his companies he's working for with my mother and eldest brother, and few years of sleepover in his office whenever we come down to KL when I was younger, it is only natural I gravitate towards the same environment when I start my working life.

So I learned, no matter what your position is titled - when you're working for small-sized business - your job description is almost indefinable. Of course, you know what is your core skills and responsibilities (and eventually, you learn to maintain these as something only you can do in the organisation), but at the same time you need to be prepared to go beyond what is required of you. Because the truth is, there is no one else to do it.

There is also no clear hierarchy in small business. When your superior is present, then you normally assume your given role. But in small business we do not have the pleasure of time and space (let alone, budget) - so when (and often) your superior has to be elsewhere for a different project and you have to replace him or her for an equally essential task - you assume their role. Take charge and own the project as if it's your own.

My work today spanned from answering e-mails to one of our project's stakeholders, maintaining an updated list of participants for the upcoming seminar on renewable energy hosted by our partner, digging out statistics on the availability of oil palm waste in the country, rooting for information on latest government's incentives offered to small and medium businesses in green technology sector, participating in a short discussion about another conference in October, and organising (and attending) meetings for my boss with one of our member companies before I go home. Along the day, I had to figure out what I need to do to finalise the agreements between our project members and their consultants for eco-labelling and clean development exercises which we're funding.

Title-wise, I performed the tasks of a personal assistant, an event executive and a industry/market researcher.

The trouble with being small is you may end up doing three jobs but being paid for one, and the trouble with being small is you have to learn fast and be as agile with your roles as you are in relating to your colleagues or clients at work. The trouble with being small is you have to be prepared to take or leave what you're asked to do - because with the limited resources, there is little room for trying, and because honest to god, if you fail, there is no one else there to blame.

A year and more spent being in small business, and a couple of years to come (my project will not end until 2013) - I find that I have no trouble at all with being small.

To live frugal and green

"We're living on the credit cards of future generation", so says Matthias Gelber, who was voted the Greenest Man on the Planet in 2008.

On the other hand, "everyone from the public, private sector and academia are looking to the government to change, we've got to stop it!", was the frustration cried by Gurmit Singh. Having worked and fought for environment as long as he did, it's a wonder the man never give up.

I was at the Green Business Forum today; reputed the leaders forum for green business. I chuckled easily when Gurmit Singh told the audience he refused to open the bottled water served on the table. "If you say you support green but you still serve the bottled water, then it's not green - it's greenwashing."

The forum was refreshing, a kick in the butt to keep reminding me why I'm here - in the industry of my own choosing. But above all, it serves as a reminder to my personal resolve in doing my part for the environment;

My earlier thoughts on environment stemmed from resource consumption and respecting nature - they're part and parcel of moral perfectibility. Which is why when the issue of climate change crop up, although it helped me understand the course of environmental history, it acts little as my impetus to continue working for environment. Nevertheless, my beliefs in it has never wavered - seeking to work in the biomass/renewable energy industry was a conscious decision, stopping to buy bottled water was a conscious decision, continuing to use my old battered Kancil was a conscious decision, trying to keep my electricity use below 80kWh/month was a conscious decision.

I still have a long way to go - my plastic and glass bottles still waiting to be sent to recycled centre, my used cooking oil is still well below its 1 litre mark, I am yet to set-up a proper recycling system in my kitchen. It can be daunting, but unless you are convinced that you're doing it for the right reasons, and not merely to jump on the green bandwagon, I'd say why not, take your time, go ahead. We all could do with less wastage.

Come hell or water high

Writing please come to me like rain, I'm barren and tongue-tied and at a loss for the healing embracing power you offers me. Words please come to me like river, wash me, roll me over and take me away from these daunting waves of life and reality and dreams.

It's warm in Berlin

The weather is warmer in Berlin than I thought it would be. And Charlottenburg, a quaint town on the outskirt of Berlin is a moderately quiet city with a charm of its own.

People rides their bike a lot around here, and in a lot of manners; from the most sporty to men in suits or scruffy young adults who look like they just got out of bed and decide to go to work in their best shirt, unironed.

Berliners like to take their meals slowly, and as a result at cafe and restaurants you will find yourself waiting 20 to 30 minutes for your meals to come when you ordered. And most people linger after dinner for 1 hour or more.

They like to take their food crude and wholesome too, so you will find none of the elaborate European dishes you often see on TV. Think steaks, mashed peas and potatoes, and of course, sausages in many varieties.

It feels good to discover Berlin slowly, and not bedraggled with the rushed feeling often associated with being a tourist. My perspective of the city grows larger by day, and it's hard not to feel warmed by its quiet pleasantness as my trip goes on.

The hope is we have so much to feel good about

Slow, melodic song was blaring amidst conversations, and I sat  there in the middle of countless faces I never met before. When it calls for it, I made small talks and laughed appropriately at the right time. But whenever I found myself little time to catch my breath, my mind wanders over.

I saw happy families, society of distinctions, and young crowds keeping abreast with the latest of things. This glaring brightness, this feigned happiness  - and I felt so ill at place. I tried to look around for familiar comforts, my safe refuges, but a sting of bitterness rush to my eyes as I realised none of them were there.

"What have become of our lives?"

Then I was struck with a strange feeling of melancholic contentment. Despite everything, we all have plenty to smile about. This pain will be beautiful one day, this torment will feel foolish in the future. No matter how hopeless our lives may seem to be at the moment, we still have so much to feel good about.

Breaking boundaries

I stepped into the business lounge and my step was frozen. A vivid image of a scene in a Godfather-like movie rushed into my mind where rich and old businessmen are sitting around in a dimly lit room clouded with cigar smoke, coffee and tea half-drank and cups littered with ashes, hushed voices indicates discussion of important but hazy business.

I chuckled to myself. Even though I know I was supposed to be impressed with the situation, I found it strangely comical.

"Ah, I was looking for you." A deep, hoarse voice interrupted my line of thoughts and I looked to the left. Three men were approaching, dapper in suits and shiny shoes. I smiled and shook hands with them. We exchanged pleasantries and ever gentlemen, they led me through the door to get to our seats.

As we sat, I suddenly felt eyes on me. I looked around and noticed an interested look thrown by the on-lookers. In passing, I wondered why before I turned to join the conversation again.

We spoke for the next hour; they did most of the talking, while I took notes and chipped in when necessary. For them it's a business opportunity, for me it's a learning experience.

When we stood up to leave later, shaking hands again and promising to follow up and keep in touch, once again I saw heads turned from other tables. I stepped back and took a good look at our group; a Chinese man and his son, an Acehnese who has been working here for more than 10 years, an Irish who loves his char kuey teow, a Malay uncle who hailed from the same place where my parents live; they are all grown men and I, a young woman in scarf who sat and stood on the same par with them.

It's becoming regular occurrences now, to find myself in a situation where conventions dictates I have no business being there.  But, who's to say what or who I am determines what I can or can't do?

Think of yourself as Me, Inc.

"Stop thinking of yourself as a dweeb who needs a job, and start thinking of yourself as a financial entity that must survive over a half century. By viewing yourself as a small company, you practice goal-setting, accountability, strategic planning, financial management, and marketing, and give yourself a framework for success." - Martin Yate

I like the idea of being the CEO of my own life. Especially when Alexandra Levit likens our professional development to a smart phone, downloading various useful apps (skills and responsibilities) which allows us to function and serve useful purpose to those around us.

I've been through a career hellhole, but one day when I was sitting in front of a friend and he asked, locking my eyes in earnest, "so, you are going to stay with the job until 2013?", I was suddenly struck with a realisation that I've never felt so clear about what I had to do with my life, until then.

I knew my answer to him wasn't very assuring when I gave him a non-committal smile and a half-nod. But I'm suddenly aware of an alignment as to what I am inside and what I can offer to the world - reliability. And such awareness gives me a renewed sense of purpose when I was back at the office the next week.

"In life we do not always get an opportunity to do what we like best at the time of our choosing. Search and you will find." Those are the words of Tunku Aziz when I sought his advice. I thought; if I can't find now, if I'm yet to understand - then I might as well give it my best shot while I'm at it.

Where Will I Be in Five Years

“If you believe if you’re going to…change the world, you’re going to end up either a pessimist or a cynic. But if you understand your limited power and define yourself by your ability to resist injustice, rather than by what you accomplish, then I think reality is much easier to bear.” Chris Hedges

A Semblance of a We

We are mismatched bits and pieces put together, but in the nooks and crannies of our awkwardness we found safe corners.

In you, in me - we found a semblance of a we. 

Accept your own aloneness

“It’s no good trying to get rid of your own aloneness. You’ve got to stick to it all your life. Only at times, at times, the gap will be filled in. At times! But you have to wait for the times. Accept your own aloneness and stick to it, all your life. And then accept the times when the gap is filled in, when they come. But they’ve got to come. You can’t force them.” -D. H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley’s Lover

Disconnect and recharge

"To manage the storm around us, we need to quiet the storm inside ourselves". I've been quite a follower to Tony Schwartz's blog in the past year. A proponent of productivity and engagement at the workplace (and how the way we're working isn't working), his musings often touch on how to get the best from our daily tasks and actions without sapping ourselves of our precious energy.

At the same time, Tony's writings are also personal. The way he relates his theories to his day-to-day life and activities give me a strange comfort in knowing I'm not alone in experiencing detachment and burnouts in my workplace.

It took me a number of job applications made in haste and an interview with another prospective (but nonetheless incompatible) company to made me realise what I hate in my current job is not the job itself, but the mindless operating robot I've turned into. It took me a week spent among the project network stakeholders (not to mention the much needed time out of the office) and a night mulling over figures and numbers to remember again what actually inspires me about my work;

The satisfaction of completing one little project at a time, reading and writing about issues I believe in, understanding science behind everything, the enriching experience I get when I speak to everyday entrepreneurs and industrialists, the ability to see the big picture, picking apart drivers and barriers governing our decisions.

In the grand scheme of things, they might be futile. What I'm doing may account for only one single little dot in the gigantic map of global struggle, but they will drive me forward. They will be the crutch to keep my feet steady, to keep me walking until the end - limping or not.

Change is the only constant

These days my dinner consists of a single thing on a plate; a piece of toasted bread, one egg - sunny side up, and a sausage. A pack of instant noodle and one egg - sunny side up. Sometimes they are leftovers. Like last night; it was half a tandoori nan and few pieces of chicken curry from my lunch at the office.

After the merry housewarming party last weekend, the plates and bowls and glasses and the frying pan and pots seems too much for my consumption alone. I feel affluent; I've never owned so many things before.

It has been quite a change, coming home to a quiet house. As sun sets my feet shuffle around quietly, from bedroom to the kitchen and back to the living room where my books are sprawling on the floor. The only noise I get is from my loyal audio set where it sings its melancholic songs.

I'm still trying to make sense of these new found freedom and its inevitable silence; although sometimes I get struck with panic at its prickling quietness, mostly I cherish the time to get lost in the sea of my own thoughts and imagination, just like Emma Morley does;

"Sometimes she thinks how nice it would be to be woken by a call in the night: 'get in a taxi now' or 'Í need to see you, we need to talk'. But the best of times she feels like a character in a Muriel Spark novel - independent, bookish, sharp-minded, secretly romantic." - One Day by David Nicholls

It's written in the stars, a million miles away

'For all that has happened and the opportunities still developing in my life, I feel blessed. I was part of a miracle that has touched a great number of people in the world and I wouldn't trade that for anything, not even to have my hand back. My accident in and rescue from Blue John Canyon were the most beautifully spiritual experience of my life, and knowing that, were I to travel back in time, I would still say "see you later" to Megan and Kristi and take off into that lower slot by myself. While I've learned much, I have no regrets about that choice. Indeed, it has affirmed my belief that our purpose as spiritual beings is to follow our bliss, seek our passions, and live our lives as inspirations to each other. Everything else flows from that. When we find inspiration, we need to take action for ourselves and our communities. Even if it means making a hard choice, or cutting out something and leaving it in your past.

Saying farewell is also a bold and powerful beginning.'

- 127 Hours: Between a Rock and a Hard Place by Aron Ralston

Conversation about god - I

Even though I may not have realised it earlier, I think I gave up on religion a long time ago.

There is something about assigning truth to a certain belief and implying such belief as above others which I don't agree with. Over time, I had learned faith is all-inclusively a personal, irrational, and at the same time a conscious endeavour.

There is always a reason why people believe in something, and why they don't - and the consequent conclusion to it is simply, to each their own.

Once on our way home while walking under a clear moonlight by the Coogee beach, my housemate asked me; "do you believe in god?". I raised my eyes, my two brows knitted together. Feeling a bit offended, I said, "what do you think I'm wearing the headscarf for?". He chuckled, and gave me a look which says, 'come on, don't fool yourself'

Later in the night, I was left deep in my own thoughts. I realised everything religious I've been doing all these while had been nothing but ornamental. They were simply a territorial mark, a conventional stamp which licensed me to function as a normal individual in my society.

I asked myself, since when did I make the conscious choice to believe, to submit myself to a particular religion or a school of thoughts - I thought long and hard, and I couldn't remember.

From that moment on; every rituals, every services I perform in the name of religion lost their meaning.

Some thoughts on happiness (or how to make your run productive)

In the morning I willed myself out of bed and went for a quick run in my neighbourhood. I've set myself a 3.4 km route as a baseline to time my run, my aim is to get 20 minutes or less before I could increase my distance to 5 km.

While running I thought about how many of us has distorted the meaning of happiness. We think they come only in specific forms; a wish fulfilled, a gift bestowed, as love deserved, or company shared. In reality, I think happiness can be found despite it all;

Sometimes in our loneliness we find happiness in being at peace and accepting what a fragile thing a relationship is. Sometimes in mourning for our loss we find lessons to be humble about letting go of things we own. Sometimes by being denied of our wish we find how minute we are as human beings and how out of control we are of our fate, how sometimes there are always larger and bigger things at play which we know and understand very little of.

Feeling like the sun is smiling at me as it breaks free from the cloud in the morning sky, sharing my milk with the friendly black and white cat who is living in the playground at my apartment, discovering what great music is in Hybrid, Elsiane's debut album, sharing a laugh with my independent, ambitious and inspiring girlfriends, and feeling a tug of longing and familiarity at the thought of someone near - these are what happiness means to me today. What's yours?

Where I was

I was sitting in a cafe with a completely generic and superficial setting. There was no music, let alone beautiful books. A hyperactive boy was throwing rocks off the shop's decor onto the shopping tile floor like he was throwing pebbles into the water. His small face, mostly covered by his oversized glasses  was laden with wonder and joy.

In this rock-bottom universe of my favourite cafes, I was astounded to find a surprise evening delight.

I was running around my neighbourhood. Trying to feel my heart beat against my chest, trying to taste my salty sweat trickling down my face and flooding my eyes, nose and lips. The street so quiet its deafening silence creating a series of calming echoes inside my head.

Hushed morning like these are my sacred escape, moments I get to let my mind wanders free and unrestrained.

I was on a major recconnaisance for my next perfect abode, a place to call home and  people to live with to call a family. The state of my temporary settlements - from one bookshelf to another - sometimes give me an illusion of fresh starts, or clean exits.

I was finishing my reading of 127 Hours, my enrapturement with Aron Ralston's psyche and his passionate obsession with nature and exploring it is causing my slow progress with the book. My act of reading the book is one I usually witness when people are nibbling succulent chocolate or oyster, or sipping a good warm hot chocolate on rainy days. They savour it, they take it slow.

I was standing across a familiar friend, listening to his voice and smiling at his friendly jokes. In my head, my brain works faster than my heart - trying to make sense of his undeciphered demeanour. After a while, when silence makes an interval out of our long pause - I put my guard down and let his presence envelops my existence.

At every breath he draws in I was made aware of every fluttering molecules that he is - ordinary yet so out of place.

I was living, creating my own circumstances and unplanned adventures. I was trying to furnish my small life with my gigantic dreams. I was trying to live - really live - before I die.

We all need saving

Sometimes when I'm on the verge of slipping into the dark, simple words keep me hanging on to what's real.

They help me swim through the pain, through the bitter torrid water, and no matter how exhausted I am I remind myself all I have to do is to get to the other side. To make it to the next round.

Laughter is the best medicine

I learned over the weekend apart from playing in the dirt, getting myself comfortable with nature; the next invigorating thing I enjoy doing is laughing.

To laugh with good friends over misopportune moments, over memories old but never forgotten. To laugh at the oblivious way cats walk away from me while regally swishing their tails no matter how hard I try to trick them with Friskies in hand. To laugh over embarassing mistakes and bitter discoveries, to laugh at all things human.

A little ray of sunshine

It still feels the same. The exhilirating push to leap forward, to skip on the little rocks and bounce on the brown fertile soil.

To push my body to the brink of its metabolic capacity, to feel my lung constricts and fights for the air, to feel my heart leaps out from my chest - fighting to live, fighting to survive, fighting to capture the essence of life I rarely feel on my ordinary, or as aptly put by my friend; shabby, confusing, over-worked days.

The trip to Broga Hill was a much needed escape. Jaunts to nature like these remind me of my dreams, what I'm made of and what I live for - to live, really live, to feel pain inside and out, to break free, to strip myself of my own fears and limitations, and to conquer impossibilities as big as the mountains.

Saturday morning  I wake up at 4.00 a.m. to drive to Semenyih, a small town about 15-minute drive southeast of Kajang. I brew coffee for myself and pack chocolate-coated digestive cookies for breakfast, before heading out to pick up my friend along the way.

An amazing crowd was already gathering by the time we reach the oil palm estate where the trail starts. I find myself bouncing with energy and raring to go while we wait for another group of friends to arrive. We start off strong but linger at the first stop to catch our breath.

The journey has a secret intrigue to it which I adore; stepping on the coarse rocks and hardened soil in utter darkness awaken my senses, and the terror which catch me off-guard at the sudden slip even when I thought I knew where I was going make me aware of my fist sized red heart.

There is no realisation as sobering  as one which says "I am human, I am living now". 

We reach the first peak after 30 minutes, and immediately scour the spot to sit down and wait for the sunrise. Cool morning breeze and little swifts hopping around from one tree to another make us forget the climbing ordeal we had previously, and despite the cheering noise made by the young crowd around me, I was totally enraptured by the sight in front of me.

As the darkness lazily made way to the sunlight who march silently but forcefully like a majestic king taking its rightful throne, I thought "what better way to celebrate such rare morning with a touch of warmth and  familiarity and friendliness such as coffee?"

Delicious Ambiguity

Alexandra Levit was right when she was talking about how we might be taking our job for granted. 'Meaning is in the eye of beholder'; we create our own meaningful experiences.

I was supposed to attend an interview yesterday. I was at crossroads deciding whether or not I should go. On one hand, the position wasn't really something I'm after. It's one of the little tricky things about the terms of my sponsorship. I'm supposed to serve for my sponsor, but I don't get a say in choosing the line of works I'm interested in or passionate about.

On the other hand, I am aware I cannot get too complacent with my current position. For the time being and in the next year, my responsibilities will involve working with and assisting small companies - they will be where I derive my meaning from. However, my office environment isn't too nurturing of my dreams, values and inspirations and for someone who attach values to her works - it's a struggling environment to survive.

I decided to give the interview a pass, and it feels like the right decision to do. Coming back to the office yesterday with my desk piled up with pending works gave me a sense of purpose and hope. I have no idea what's in store for me in the future, but I believe the right thing will come when the time is right - what's important is for me to be good at what I do and I do it right.

A wise old man once told me, "You need to set your goal or goals clearly and work hard and prove that qualifications apart, you are someone who acts ethically in all that you do,- in other words, you are trustworthy. Time is on your side; you are young and the world is at your feet". I think I'm beginning to get it.

It finally feels like a weekend

A full weekend is all I need after a week of event-organising and project management anxieties.

I've learned recently the week leading to the Chinese New Year's break can be quite stressful as it's the longest holiday our office is going to endure in the year. I've never left the office more than 3 working days so I wonder if our projects is going to fall all over the place while we're away. But then of course it's only the workaholic in me speaking, and my colleague did say I love my work too much for my own good.

So in a way, the up and coming holiday is a good practice to monitor my work cathexis. To work, and to have a break means to learn to invest and commit in something, and to let go again so it will give me more rooms to consider and reconsider my priorities.

The holiday aside, I'm glad to have had a fruitful weekend (despite the fact it's barely over yet);

I'm a morning person regardless whether it's a working day or not, so I got up early today to whip up some pancakes to go with my coffee. It's an indulgence, and a move away from my daily toast for breakfast. The following hours was a blur of sending my car for service, watching a hilarious Hindi movie on TV, and shopping little trinkets, toys and cookies for my nieces.

I spent the evening checking my receipts for the whole month, and making sure I stay on budget until my next paycheck.

Sometimes I think it's the little thing; random duties and negligible pleasures which makes one's life whole.

Some thoughts on cooking (or how to lead a domestic life)

Unencumbered, I used to cherish and hold on to the word with my dear life.

I had found the word in Tony Parson's The Family Way, which tells a story of 3 sisters growing up and grappling with their respective crises of motherhood and domestic life. The story of Cat, Jessica and Megan had appealed to me then because it shows the irregularities and flawed ideals of an adult's life.

Since then, I remember wishing to lead a life without the cumbersome dependence of others. I remember making a vow to myself, I would never let anyone made me wash their plates again simply because I am a girl. To me, a domestic life is equivalent to a life of subservience - an utter nightmare for an obsessive compulsive control freak like me.

So imagine my alarm, after years of worshipping such fancy-free word (and its projected world - if it ever exists), I realised last night I actually find much comfort in cooking, in the luxury of my domestic life and in providing for others!

Maybe growing up has something to do with it. I realised now the older I get, the smaller and the more riddled the divide between my black and white world, between my perception of good and bad. There is no clear-cut ways to life - you make (or create) choices, you get lucky or you screw up, and you repeat the process again; erasing where you can, improvising while you're still around.

Domestic life or not, if any of us find joy in cooking or taking a long ride on our motorbike or splashing around in the ocean or just staying put in front the fire reading our favourite novel listening to Sinatra - then who (or what) are we to say anything, really?

Heart-stealing Spirit Thief: The legend of Eli Monpress

What woman can deny the charm of a gold-hearted larrikin? A thief who steals from the rich but looks after the spirits around him? A self-involved wizard who is also a loyal friend?

Put Harry Potter and Robin Hood together, and add to it a spice of Peter Pan - and you'll get (and be charmed) by Eli Monpress, the greatest thief in the spirit world.

The Spirit Thief tells a story of the Spiritualist Miranda Lyonette, who has been ordered by the Spirit Court to warn the King of Mellinor about Eli Monpress, who is rumoured to be stealing one of Mellinor's greatest treasure.

But Miranda was a little late to arrive in Mellinor, for Eli has already executed his idea. He had stolen the King of Mellinor.

Rachel Aaron's debut novel is a fun read and a novelty. She puts up an intriguing concept of a magical system where everything in the world - everything -  from wind, plants, water, even the door and its nutbolts, has spirits and thus, are capable to act at their own accord.

In the spirit world, human beings are given the power to control the lesser spirits, and thereby own them.

There are a lot of endearing characters in the Spirit Thief. Apart from the charming and beleaguered hero Eli Monpress, Miranda herself is a Spiritualist of principle who cannot help herself than be charmed by the thief. At a strange turn of event, the two enemies somehow struck a chord of friendship.

Similarly, in his renowned works Eli is helped by the swordsman Josef and a girl who is possessed by demon, Nico. A strange, but lovable pair. There is also Gin, Miranda's ghosthound who seems to have a wry sense of humour, and is very fond and protective of his Spiritualist master.

All in all, the story of Eli Monpress makes a nice alternative for us fans of magical characters and fairy stories. Although they could do with a better (and more imaginative) cover, I'm willing to bet my bottom dollar the next sequels of the Spirit Thief (Spirit Rebellion and Spirit Eater) are going to be as exhilirating journey as the first one!

A is for acceptance, B for bravery and C for curiosity

I've found my word for 2011: Accept.

I will accept myself. I am enough and I am never too much. And I will accept whatever and however ways people perceive me. I don't need to justify my existence, neither do they need to understand my differences.

I will accept people as they are. I will not torment myself and others by expecting any more of them than what they already are. I'm grateful for their companionship, and it is already more than I can ask for.

I will accept everything new coming across my life in the next 12 months and beyond as an opportunity to discover and live life. I will not hold myself back. I will not let fear prevent me from doing what I love, or doing the right thing. Even if it's going to be just one step forward, at a time.

I will accept my past as a part of who I am, I will accept the mistakes I've made, and I will accept whatever it was which caused people to have wronged me.

The past is the past, I will accept that although they factored in the way I've grown and become today, they have no influence in whatever choices I'm going to make tomorrow and in the future. 

My word for 2011 is accept. I'm going to open myself, wholly, for it.

2010 in review

2010 was my annus horribilis - it was a year with a lot of confusion, a lot of clinging to the past, and a lot of uncertainties with what I would like to see for myself in the future.

Coming back from Sydney, I had (or I thought I had) a clear sense of self. The only problem was what and who I am didn't really fit in well with what's waiting for me in Malaysia.

I was an emotional wreck for the first few months, frustrated for not being able to move forward and maintained the same optimistic hope I had harboured for myself before I board the plane home.

Then work came. The government job I was waiting for didn't turn up, and I turned down the first of my job offers after a series of phone and personal interviews. Almost immediately, after having spoken to a couple of veterans, I took up the next offer and made my journey to another city, and almost another life.

Looking back, the relocation had come naturally to me. In my battered 4-year old Kancil, filled to the brim with my books (and a bookshelf), a fan, several cookery, and what's left of my wardrobe I faithfully made the climb through the country from my hometown to Kuala Lumpur - on my own.

The feat took me 12 hours, and I wouldn't have done otherwise.

What followed suit was a rapid learning process professionally, and a long, slow climb to build up my social circle again. I made some mistakes but learned a lot of lessons with my colleagues. I made some rash decisions in friendships, and hurt some people along the way. There are some things which I did and I am not proud of , but there are others I am glad I did.

I finally had my graduation attended with my families and friends. It was a cozy and small affair by UNSW, and just the way I like it.

My friends and family's friends came to visit from Sydney, and although we didn't get to do as much travel as we like - talking to them and just being with them reinforced my memories of who I was in Australia and what I've grown to become, and gave me hope to continue to hold my own self and let none others do.

I haven't been truly honest with people I am dear with, but I think I'm getting there. I have decided to have faith in them, as they did me. We have been through thick and thin for more than half a decade now, what kind of proofs more do I need?

Surprisingly, settling down in my new abode proving to be a breeze, and serendipitious. Although we have our differences, my housemates and I, we chose to bond instead on our similarities. After a surprise birthday party, countless movie nights, and repeated sharing sessions - they taught me I was wrong to hold on to my stereotypes about how my stay in Malaysia may not be as lively as it was abroad.

Human beings are human beings everywhere, we're all capable of creating joys, sadness, and lives of our own.

All in all, although 2010 has not been a blast, it has been a knock in the head like an angry parent, like a little string to a balloon, tugging me down rooted and grounded to the earth. Perhaps I'm a little late in saying this: but welcome 2011!